


Trial

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Developing Relationship, Episode Related, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: John Buchanan looked up at him, clearly surprised to see Barba standing in his office. “Rafael Barba,” he said, standing, a slow smile crossing his face. “Please tell me you’ve come to take me up on my multiple job offers.”“I have a job,” Barba told him, slapping the paper in his hand down on Buchanan’s desk and meeting his eyes evenly. “And besides, I don’t like being summoned.”“Glad to see you got my subpoena,” Buchanan said, almost cheerfully.





	Trial

**Author's Note:**

> Much like with 'Arrest', I wanted to do something as a sort of 'what could be' ahead of this week's episode.
> 
> Obviously this isn't what's going to happen in canon, and this never would happen in real life either for a variety of reasons, but if Law and Order can play fast and loose with law, reality and basic continuity, so can I.
> 
> Eternal gratitude to ships_to_sail for the beta!
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Barba didn’t bother knocking on the door, and thoroughly ignored the secretary telling him that he couldn’t just walk in there.

Payback was a bitch.

John Buchanan looked up at him, clearly surprised to see Barba standing in his office. “Rafael Barba,” he said, standing, a slow smile crossing his face. “Please tell me you’ve come to take me up on my multiple job offers.”

“I have a job,” Barba told him, slapping the paper in his hand down on Buchanan’s desk and meeting his eyes evenly. “And besides, I don’t like being summoned.”

“Glad to see you got my subpoena,” Buchanan said, almost cheerfully.

Barba gave him a look but bit back his automatic retort, instead taking a deep breath and choosing his next words carefully. “You’re taking a big risk, John,” he said. “I’m still working on gaining back whatever credibility I had, and to bring me in as a character witness—”

“I’m not,” Buchanan interrupted. “And don’t worry about your credibility. That’s my job.”

Barba’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re not bringing me in as a character witness, then why call me to the stand?”

Buchanan smirked. “Oh, you’ll _be_ a character witness, don’t get me wrong. But I’m ostensibly bringing you in as an expert in police accountability.”

“Which then allows you to also use me as a character witness, without having to first make sure my testimony is admissible,” Barba said slowly, the gears in his head turning as each piece clicked into place. “It’s still a gamble, but one I can understand taking, given the circumstances.”

“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment,” Buchanan said. “And see, this is why I want you to come be a defense attorney.”

“If I were a defense attorney, you wouldn’t be able to use me as a witness,” Barba said, a little sharply.

Buchanan’s smirk widened. “Maybe not,” he said with a shrug. “But I’d still pay you a lot nicer.”

Barba rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, prosecutor for the New York Civilian Complaint Review Board actually came with a pay bump.”

“Does that mean you’ve actually broken six figures?” Buchanan asked with mock surprise. “I’m amazed, Rafael.”

“Hilarious,” Barba said dryly. “Though I must say, I appreciate your willingness to put my job in jeopardy to help your case.”

Buchanan smirk faded, just slightly. “Glad to see your sarcasm is still intact,” he said, dropping his gaze to his desk and casually rearranging some files. “Of course, I would have thought keeping Det. Carisi from serving 25 to life would be worth losing your job over.”

Barba stilled, looking at him for a long moment. “It is,” he said finally. He hesitated before warning, “Tread lightly with your line of questioning, Counselor.” Buchanan glanced back up at him and nodded. Barba turned to leave before pausing. “Oh, and John? I would’ve testified without the subpoena.”

“I know,” Buchanan said. “But it lends credence to—”

“I get it.” Barba hesitated. “Just...pass that on to Det. Carisi, would you?”

Buchanan nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you on the stand, Counselor.”

Barba half-smiled. “Words I’m sure you never thought you’d say.”

Buchanan smiled slightly as well. “Well, at the rate you’re going…”

Barba rolled his eyes. “See you in court, John,” he said before finally leaving, his shoulders squared, his head held high, trying not to think about the case that he was being called in to testify for.

_The People v Dominick Carisi, Jr._

Where Sonny was on trial for murder.

* * *

 

“Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,” Barba said with all the confidence he didn’t feel, finding himself back in court only a few months after he had last taken the stand, under circumstances both wildly different and far too similar.

Buchanan approached him, and for the first time, Barba appreciated Buchanan’s disarming smile and charm.

He forced himself to look at Buchanan, not at the figure still sitting at the defense table. He hadn’t seen Sonny in over three months, and he didn’t want his first glance to be like this.

“Mr. Barba, will you tell the court what you do for a living?” Buchanan asked.

“I’m an attorney,” Barba said. “Formerly an Assistant District Attorney for New York County, currently a prosecutor with the New York Civilian Complaint Review Board.”

Buchanan nodded. “And what is the Civilian Complaint Review Board?”

“It’s the civilian oversight organization for NYPD,” Barba said, making sure to aim this at the jury. “We investigate and prosecute complaints against cops.”

“You’ve also had familiarity prosecuting cases against police officers as an ADA, correct?”

“Yes,” Barba said. “There were a number of cases I brought against cops as an ADA, the most hgh profile of which was the Terrence Reynolds case, where three officers were indicted for killing an unarmed Black teenager.”

Again Buchanan nodded. “So you’ve had plenty of experience dealing with corrupt cops.” He didn’t wait for Barba to answer — or for the prosecution to object. “Did your office investigate my client for the crime of which he stands accused?”

Barba chose his words carefully. “The CCRB received notification about the case, but the Board decided the case would be best handled within the NYPD.”

“And what led the board to this conclusion?”

“Objection.” Peter Stone spoke for the first time. “Speculation.”

Buchanan didn’t flinch. “I’ll rephrase,” he told the judge, who nodded. “Did the board give a reason for not pursuing an independent investigation?”

Barba nodded. “Yes, the board’s reasoning was twofold: firstly, they did not feel that there was sufficient evidence that Det. Carisi allegedly committed the crime as an abuse of his position as a detective; and secondly, they felt Homicide was best equipped to manage the investigation, and that since Det. Carisi is not a homicide detective, there was no conflict of interest in NYPD investigating one of their own.”

“Did you review the case while the board was making their determination?” Buchanan asked.

Barba hesitated, just a beat, less for the jury’s benefit and more for Buchanan’s, to let him know that this was an area where he needed to be careful. “Not in an official capacity.”

Buchanan paused. “But in an unofficial capacity?”

“Yes,” Barba said honestly.

“What does that mean?”

Again Barba hesitated. “It means that while I was not officially tasked with investigating or prosecuting the case, I read the file and all the pertinent details.”

“Meaning you’re familiar with what Det. Carisi is accused of.”

“I am,” Barba said, “though most people who read the _New York Times_ are also likely familiar with the case.”

A few nervous titters broke out in the courtroom, and Buchanan gave Barba a look that only he could see. “What was your interest in the case?” he asked. “Or do you read every complaint that comes before the CCRB?”

“My interest was personal,” Barba said, knowing where Buchanan was going with this. “Det. Carisi and I worked together when I was an ADA for a number of years, and I couldn’t believe what he was accused of.”

Barba had to struggle to keep his expression impassive when Stone didn’t object to that.

Barba would’ve, if he were prosecuting.

“So you read the file,” Buchanan continued. “What were your thoughts on the charges being brought against my client?”

Now Stone did object, standing as he did. “Objection,” he said. “Mr. Barba’s thoughts have little relevance here—”

“As established, Mr. Barba is an expert in police accountability and has prosecuted similar cases,” Buchanan said smoothly. “As an expert witness, his thoughts have plenty of relevance here.”

The judge was quiet for a moment. “I’ll allow it,” he said finally. “Overruled. But tread lightly, Mr. Buchanan.”

Barba again had to struggle against smiling, just slightly, as Buchanan repeated, “So what thoughts did you have on the charges brought against my client?”

“My initial thought was that I understood the conclusion that Det. Carisi was a viable suspect in the murder of Stuart Green,” Barba said, keeping his voice calm, and even, and as objective-sounding as possible. “The victim had recently been acquitted in the rape of Det. Carisi’s niece. But as I read through the file and the evidence collected, I knew I would never have taken the case to court if I were the one prosecuting.”

“Why not?” Buchanan asked. “You just said that he made sense as a suspect.”

Barba shook his head. “Motive is only one aspect needed to prove a case,” he said. “And there was no physical evidence found to corroborate the charges.”

“Is that the only reason you wouldn’t have brought Det. Carisi up on charges?”

“No,” Barba said, and he had to swallow against the sudden emotion that welled in his chest, even as he still refused to look at Carisi for fear that he wouldn’t be able to contain it.

“For what other reason would you not have brought him up on charges?”

Barba looked at the jury and squared his shoulders. “I don’t think Det. Carisi is capable of murder.” He paused, waiting for the inevitable objection, but Stone was silent and Barba allowed himself a momentary feeling of relief before continuing, “Det. Carisi is deeply Catholic and the idea of murdering anyone would be beyond what he is capable of.”

Buchanan smiled, just slightly. “Thank you.” He glanced at the judge. “No further questions.”

Stone stood as Buchanan made his way back to the defense table, and Barba watched him set a heavy hand on Carisi's shoulders before forcing himself to turn to look at Stone. "Mr. Barba, you were recently acquitted for murdering a baby."

Barba stared evenly at him, even as he quelled the dull flash of pain that spread through his chest. "I'm sorry, is there a question there?"

Stone ignored the jab. "During the course of your trial, you admitted to ending a baby's life, is that correct?"

"I removed the baby from life support, yes," Barba said, his tone still even.

Buchanan stood. "Your Honor, as fascinating as this may be, Mr. Barba's already been on trial for this once, and I don't see what this has to do with my client's case."

Stone glanced at the judge. "Your Honor, I request some leniency. This line of questioning goes to the relationship between the defendant and the witness, and the veracity of the witness's statements."

The judge frowned. "I'll allow," he said after a moment. "But I tend not to be generous with my leniency, Mr. Stone, so that line better be a short one."

A brief scowl flit across Stone's face before he turned back to Barba. "Prior to you admitting in open court to ending the life of a child, do you believe that Det. Carisi would have said you were capable of murder?"

"Objection!" Buchanan said instantly. "Speculation."

"Your Honor—" Stone started, but it was Barba who spoke.

"Det. Carisi and I have known each other for almost five years. We've grown from acquaintances to mentor and student to colleagues and then to friends. We've spent more time together some weeks than we have with our own families." He forced himself not to look over at where Carisi was sitting at the defendant’s table. “He has seen me at my best and suffered my wrath at my worst. He knows me better than almost anyone.” He looked evenly at Stone. “Which is why I can say without hesitation that he absolutely would have said that I was capable of murder.” He paused, his expression turning defiant. “And why I can say without hesitation that he absolutely is not.”

Something like frustration flashed across Stone’s face. “Mr. Barba, since you purport to be an expert, would you say that police officers are more capable of murder than private citizens?”

“The statistics are questionable,” Barba said evenly. “There are many police-involved shootings that have not been qualified as murders, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t. Additionally, many homicide cases against police officers and former police officers are handled quietly so as not to bring attention to the departments.” He shrugged. “So I would say that police officers are at least as capable of murder as private citizens, with perhaps more means and opportunity than average citizens.”

“And yet you seem convinced that Det. Carisi would not be capable.” Barba arched an eyebrow, clearly waiting for whatever question Stone was planning on asking. “Is that based solely on your friendship with Det. Carisi?”

Barba paused. “I think it’s difficult for anyone to separate out their feelings in that way,” he hedged.

“You’re a prosecutor who routinely has to set aside his personal feelings,” Stone shot back. “So Mr. Barba, ignoring your personal friendship with the detective, in your professional opinion as someone who has seen police officers from all backgrounds break the law and commit murder, do you think Det. Carisi is capable of murder?”

“No.”

For a moment, it looked like Stone might ask something else, or even accuse Barbaof lying, but then he shook his head, frustration clear in his expression. “No further questions.”

“The witness may step down,” the judge said, and Barba stood, finally looking over at Carisi, who met his gaze evenly. Barba didn’t smile or mouth any words of encouragement, no matter how much he might want to, knowing that anything he did might undermine the testimony he just gave.

Instead, he walked out of the courtroom, and just hoped that what he had said would be enough.

* * *

 

Barba wasn’t in the courtroom when the verdict was read, but he was in the building, waiting for Buchanan’s text message.

Instead, it came from Sonny himself.

_Not guilty ._

Barba let out his breath in a long sigh and put his phone in his pocket before making his way toward the courtroom, hoping to catch Sonny, hoping to finally be able to talk to him.

Buchanan clapped Barba on the shoulder as he left the courtroom. “Time to face the firing squad,” he said cheerfully. “If you’re looking for the detective, he’s in a conference room. He said he needed a minute before dealing with the press.”

Barba nodded. “Text me when the press finally leaves and I’ll let him know it’s safe to come out,” he said.

Buchanan just laughed. “Will do,” he said. “And take your time.”

Barba nodded again and headed towards the door Buchanan had indicated, hesitating before knocking. “Come in,” Carisi called, and Barba took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

“Detective,” he said, closing the door after him and hesitating, not sure what he was supposed to do now. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

For a long moment, Carisi just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he crossed to Barba and pulled him into a hug. "You came," he said gruffly.

"I was subpoenaed," Barba pointed out, even as he tightened his grip on Sonny's back, not willing to let go, to break this moment. "If you had wanted to see me, Detective, you didn't have to resort to summons. You could've just responded to any of my hundreds of emails, texts, voicemails..."

He trailed off and felt Carisi still against him before pulling away, conspicuously avoiding Barba's gaze. "I know," he said quietly. "I just...I didn't know how..."

"I know," Barba echoed softly, because he did.

"Thank you," Carisi offered quietly. "Even if you were subpoenaed. Thank you for coming, for saying what you did."

Barba shrugged. "Turns out it's remarkably easy to get on the stand and tell the truth," he said. "I found that out the hard way."

Something tightened in Sonny’s expression. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there,” he said, his voice low. “For your trial, I mean. I...I wanted to be, but—”

“Don’t apologize,” Barba told him, something almost sharp in his tone. “Seriously. I...I know why you couldn’t be. I get it.” He paused, looking at Sonny, taking in the slump of Carisi’s shoulder, the lines that furrowed his brow. “Besides, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Carisi looked up sharply. “What? Why?”

Barba shrugged and forced a smile far too much like a grimace. “For what happened to your niece,” he said simply. “For not being there. For not being the one to prosecute. This all could’ve been avoided if I was.”

Carisi managed a laugh and shook his head. “You and I both know that’s not true,” he said quietly. “For starters, you probably woulda had to recuse yourself. Besides, Stone did his best, and the case was always shaky.”

“But I could’ve won it,” Barba said with no trace of arrogance.

Carisi half-smiled.  “Well, you won today, and that’s what matters at the moment.”

Barba ducked his head, a thousand things he wanted to say, even if he knew now wasn’t the right time. “Buchanan getting me to testify on your behalf was risky,” he said instead, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “But I’m glad it paid off.”

Carisi’s smile widened, and for just a moment, it looked like his usual grin, and Barba couldn’t help but move closer, drawn in as always by Sonny’s light. “I was the one to ask John to subpoena you,” he said.

“Then that was incredibly risk of _you_ ,” Barba said, though he couldn’t help but smile, just a little. The smile quickly faded as he looked up at Carisi. “Though I’m still not entirely sure why you didn’t have the rest of the squad testify on your behalf.”

His words sounded pointed, though he didn’t mean them to be. “I didn’t want to put them on the stand,” Carisi said simply.

“Why not?” Barba asked.

Carisi shrugged and couldn’t seem to meet Barba’s eyes. “Because none of them have alibis for that night,” he muttered, the back of his neck flushing red. “None but the Lieu.”

Barba nodded slowly, understanding sinking in. “They’re good friends,” he offered, and Carisi just nodded in agreement. “But regardless of circumstances, of whatever else, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Carisi cocked his head slightly. “Thanks,” he said, an unspoken question in his voice, and Barba straightened his tie and avoided looking at him.

“You know, from one killer to another.”

Carisi froze. “You testified that I wasn’t capable of killing anyone,” he said, his voice catching.

Barba shook his head, just slightly. “No,” he said calmly. “I didn’t.” He raised an eyebrow at Carisi. “So if you’re thinking I perjured myself, don’t.” Carisi just stared at him and Barba shook his head again, his expression turning contemplative. “Stone asked the wrong question,” he said simply. “He asked if I thought you were capable of murder, and I don’t believe you are.” He paused and met Carisi’s gaze evenly. “But he didn’t ask me if I thought you were capable of killing someone.”

“That’s...a bit of a gray area there, Counselor,” Carisi said, his voice low.

Barba shrugged. “And that’s between you and your God.” He cocked his head, just slightly. “As, I imagine, would be the culpability of someone else pulling the trigger and you choosing not to stop them.”

For a long moment, Carisi just stared at him, before a slight, almost startled smile broke across his face. “You know me too well,” he muttered.

“Or just well enough,” Barba said evenly, pausing before asking, “So what are you planning on doing now?”

Carisi shrugged and looked away. “I dunno,” he said, sounding almost defeated, and Barba flinched against his innate desire to reach out and comfort him. “I, uh, I dunno if I can still be a cop. But I don’t know…” He trailed off. “I dunno how to be anything else.”

Barba took a deep breath before offering a small, soft smile. “Well, the good news is, you don’t have to make a decision right now,” he said bracingly. “But I know that no matter where you end up, you’ll never stop fighting for justice.”

Carisi smiled at that. “Thanks, Rafael,” he said quietly. “Hey, uh, you wanna get a drink? The lieu gave me the rest of the day off.”

“Generous of her,” Barba said with a smile. “And I suppose I could be convinced.”

He jerked his head toward the door and together they left the conference room and headed toward the exit. Carisi hesitated, just a moment, before pushing open the courthouse doors, but the flock of reporters had long since dispersed, based on the text from Buchanan that Barba hadn’t actually looked at but felt vibrate in his pocket.

Together they walked down the courthouse steps, just as they had many times before. But at the bottom, Carisi hesitated. “Where to?” he asked. “I dunno if I can stomach Forlini’s tonight.”

There was something in Carisi’s voice that made Barba pause. He knew in an instant that it wasn’t just the bar they were headed to that was making Carisi hesitate, but the whole host of choices before him.

Barba knew, because he had been there.

And he understood.

“Well, we’ll figure it out,” he said said easily, looking up at Carisi. “Together.”

Carisi looked down at him and managed a half smile before reaching out and taking Barba’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Ok,” he said simply. “Lead the way.”


End file.
